Raindrops
by ninemuses
Summary: Sometimes weather follows a pattern. Sometimes Alex and Nicolas do too.


Alex peers at the sky with concern. She needs to finish the day's shopping or she's going to be caught in a downpour. Well, at least she's mostly done here. There's not much left on the list to get. Just some pears and maybe some tangerines, if they're not too picked over and bruised.

She turns her attention toward the old woman carefully wrapping up the pastries. They're a bit of a splurge, but it's been a while since the boys have had a treat. Not to mention _her_. Alex misses the taste of sugar, sticky and sweet on her tongue. Besides, she's always come under budget during these weekly grocery trips. The pennies add up over time. They always do.

The old woman hands her the wrapped pastries and Alex places them gently into her bag. "You better hurry on home, honey," the vendor says. She points to the rapidly darkening sky. "Looks like it's going to be a bad one."

Alex smiles. Lingers a moment longer as she watches the woman begin to pack up her wares. "Will you be all right?" How is one old woman going to bring all this food home by herself?

The other woman pauses. Raising a brow, she says tartly, "Worry about yourself first. I've been selling sweets in this market longer than you've been alive. I've seen storms worse than this."

"I don't doubt it," Alex replies, her voice soft. "I was just wondering if you needed help."

The vendor snorts and waves her hand dismissively. "I don't. My grandson should be coming along shortly."

"All right." Alex hesitates again, but the old woman squints at her, a heavy frown creasing that weathered face. Nothing to do but take the hint. She bids the vendor goodbye and hurries to the produce stalls.

The ominous skies have made the other vendors antsy. Can't blame them. It's hard to make a sale when your potential customers are opting to go home instead of shop. By the time she reaches the fruit stall, the man has already begun putting away his goods. He spares her a glance, even though he doesn't stop what he's doing. "Hello there."

Alex scans what's left out and doesn't see what she's looking for. "I don't suppose you have any pears and tangerines?"

The man pauses then and reaches for a small basket. He places it in front of her, pulling away the cloth he'd tossed over it. "I was expecting you."

She examines the pears and tangerines, all perfect and untouched, before putting them into her bag. Alex beams at him. "Thank you!"

"It was no problem," he mutters, although the faint color in his cheeks belies his gruff voice. "You always come looking for the same things every week." With a grunt, he goes back to packing away his goods. Feeling grateful for the vendor's generosity, Alex drops payment onto the table. "Have a good day!" A rumble of thunder punctuates her words.

"It was a good day before the weather decided to take a turn."

It's been like this for the past week. A heavy downpour that begins in the late morning and then tapers off in the late afternoon an hour or two before the sun dips below the horizon. Alex isn't surprised that the pattern is beginning to wear on people's nerves. "Hopefully, that'll change soon," she says.

"Yeah," the man replies. "Hopefully."

Alex waves goodbye and hurries her way out of the market. Unfortunately, the other customers are doing the same thing so she's caught in the throng. She manages to avoid getting crushed—really, some people lose all decency sometimes—but not much more beyond that. Her progress is hampered and she's highly conscious of all the bodies around her. Occasionally, she feels a brush of fingers against her hip, over the back pocket of her shorts. Nice try, but that's not where she keeps her money.

They're almost out of the market when the first drops begin to fall. Lightning splits the sky. Ugh. Well. Nothing to be done about it. She'll have to make a dash for it.

As she steps out of the market, Alex veers away from the main thoroughfare and into the back streets. The main streets would be faster but after weeks of navigating the back alleyways, she's not actually sure she remembers them anymore. Smiling helplessly to herself, she turns a corner. Stops at the man waiting there.

Nicolas leans against the wall. In one arm, he holds a pack of Perrier with a pack of fruit soda balanced on top of it.

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Searches for words. Finally, "Were you waiting for me?"

The rain begins to fall in earnest, plastering the hair to his forehead. Alex feels the water rolling over her skin, down her arms, between her breasts, and soaking her top so that the fabric clings to her back.

Nicolas doesn't answer. Instead, he shrugs one arm out of his coat and raises the free end, shifting. Making space.

For her.

Alex draws back, sucking in a breath. They stare at each other for one long moment before he breaks the silence.

"Come on," he says out loud. His hands are occupied, after all.

She blinks the rain out of her eyes and nods. Then she closes the space between them and tucks herself under the offered coat. Alex isn't sure what difference it makes. She's already wet.

But—

Alex exhales. The groceries, she thinks. The pastries. They don't need to get wet. Yes. That's right.

When she shows no other sign of complaint, Nicolas begins to head for home.

And without a word, she follows him, remaining by his side.


End file.
